


Not really scandalous

by Kat2107



Series: Not Really Scandalous [1]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Faraday has problems, I fail at kink meme, Kink Meme, M/M, So do I, Threesome - M/M/M, ok?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 14:10:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8627536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat2107/pseuds/Kat2107
Summary: Kink meme prompt: After some time traveling together Billy/Goody casually reveal their relationship. The others are all cool with it and in an attempt to show how cool he is with them Faraday mentions that he had sex with a guy once but then mentions something about how he doesn't know how Billy/Goody can stand it because his one time he was left bleeding/too sore to ride for days/some comment about how hurt he was but he obviously thinks is supposed to be normal. Everyone kinda laughs it off but Goody/Billly are low-key horrified because they know sex isn't supposed to be painful. Cue them including Faraday for a night.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's not the exact prompt and I fail at writing simple porn, but heck, here is it.  
> this is me being brave and posting an unbeta'd piece. My inner perfectionist just went on strike
> 
> this thing is probably full of logical errors and weird sentences, I wrote it between a weekend of overwatch hell, horrible work and while waiting in a hospital.  
> Just... ignore the errors and enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> PS: please note: Goody and Billy are a couple. There is a touch of Faraquez

Faraday eyes them with a smirk that straddles a fine line between insolent and truly amused.

“Yes, I think I figured as much.” He snorts and lifts the omnipresent bottle of whiskey to his lips. “You are not that subtle.”

They tell him first, for no particular reason except that he is the first they get alone, but also, maybe, the most difficult.

Sam of course knows. Sam knew long before all this. But Sam is Sam.

And Faraday is Faraday. Mouthy. Dangerously opinionated, not because he has an opinion but because he thinks he needs one. He would be the one to make this into a problem.

They waited until Sam had left with the other three for this exact reason. It was always them who got left behind in some safe place, under a protective rock overhang or, like now, an almost habitable hut, deserted but still in good repair. No malice there, just the fact that between Faraday and Goody they had enough former bullet holes to kill an entire gang and enough barely healed broken bones to make a few men never walk again. And Billy, well, Billy had yet to find it in him to let Goody out of his sights.

It healed, of course, it healed, slower than anyone would have liked, especially with winter fast approaching, but they already had gotten well enough for normal life. Whatever ‘normal’ included. There was no discussing that the four were much faster without their invalids to hold them back. They would be back in three days’ time with fresh supplies and hopefully information on the gang they’d been tracking.

The plan had been to tell Faraday, weather whatever reaction he’d throw at them and then apply stop gap measures before he could influence the others.

Except, of course, Faraday does not do what anybody expects of him. Of course not.

He leans back against his saddle, legs crossed at the ankles, and takes yet another swig of his bottle. “What? What are you looking  at me like this for?” His left-hand points from Goodnight to Billy and back, giving motion to the indignant look on his face. “It’s not like I haven’t… ah, forget it.”

His grin flashes and falters in the span of a second when Goodnight loses all his well-bred composure. “Excuse me, please, you what…?”

The grin on Faraday’s face blooms again, too bright, too wide, too sharp. “Hey, don’t look at me like this, ok? I was young and curious and I needed the money.”

Billy snorts and shakes his hand, lifting Goody’s hand in a fluid motion to press a kiss on the knuckles. It’s Faraday after all. Crazy, ever-fluid Faraday. Pinning anything on the man seems nigh impossible, he always manages to not do what anybody thought.

“Although I have no idea how you stand it. I mean…” Faraday gestures between them with the bottle. “To each his own, but I’m really not a fan of pain, to be honest. I don’t want to ever do that again or do that to anybody, but to each his own. So please gentlemen, suit yourself…”

“Hurt?” Billy asks, echoing Goody’s frown.  

Faraday’s eyes shift, past them and to the side, up to the horizon outside the bare window, to the moon that slowly inches higher into the sky, a flaming blush coloring his fair skin

“It’s not supposed to hurt.” Billy calmly speaks up. “And there are other ways to satisfy a lover. But this,” he infuses his voice with just a tad of anger. “is not supposed to hurt.”

“Yeah, well,” Faraday quips and pushes from his seating position, rolling slowly onto his knees before he stands and then straightens. “It did. Honestly, I can’t imagine how it wouldn’t. And since I couldn’t sit for three days straight I guess my curiosity was sated. Check on the horses real quick.”

He limps out the door and into the setting darkness, taking his customary four wobbly steps before his gait evens out.

“I’m tempted to ask how young he was,” Goody murmurs silently with a shake of his head.

“Don’t.” Billy lights a cigarette and hands it over. “You don’t want to know.”

“No, I don’t. Real shame, though.” Then Goody’s mouth quirks up, his eyes wander out the window, fix to the point where he knows Faraday dotes on his ill-tempered horse. “Do you perchance think, mon Coeur, we might convince him of the opposite? I have just an inkling that Vasquez could thank us in the long run.”

Reaching over, Billy steals is cigarette from his lover’s fingers. The first drag is always the best, the heaviness of the smoke settling into his lungs, the soft warmth of the opium weighing down his limbs. “Yeah,” he rasps and chuckles. “Let’s find out.”

 

***

 

Memory is not always kind, Faraday knows. But it has a gentle tendency to wash out in the rivers of time. Like sharp-edged stones in a creek.

He cannot remember the name of the guy anymore, barely recall his face. He’d been clean enough and not ugly, good enough, young Joshua had thought, to test it, just to find out if he could make an extra dollar or two on the side. His mama’s way.

Memory is not always kind, or sharp or accurate, but it’s good for two things: to remember what to do again… and what not.

Sex with a man? Squarely in the second category.

He appreciates the male form well enough, strong hands and shoulders and a distinct lack of female softness. So and maybe he closes his eyes and takes matters in his own hand sometimes, the image of dark hair and eyes and a sweat-soaked tunic molding around broad shoulders firmly plastered to his mind’s eye. That doesn’t mean, he’ll ever try that stunt again.

Faraday had tried, had taken it up his ass and then spent days regretting it.

And yes, he has yet to see Billy or Goodnight to suffer, but who knows how much…

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

Faraday flinches away from the voice at his right shoulder, his brain catching up before his hand manages to draw Ethel. Good for Billy, though Faraday would not put it past him to deliberately have snuck up on Faraday’s weak side.

“Do you have a death wish, Rocks?”

Billy’s lips curl the tiniest amounts, the only expression he is willing to give his traveling companions, his smiles or, God forbid, laughter, strictly reserved for Goodnight Robicheaux.

“You’re thinking about it.” It’s not a question anymore. Jack snorts a soft warning, and although he stopped trying to bite the others months ago, it’s better not to tempt the monster.

Faraday takes a step back, turns to Billy and opens his mouth to give him a piece of his mind, but Billy is faster. “I’m sorry, Faraday. That someone hurt you.” His hand brushes, in the second shock in five minutes, gently over Faraday’s arm.

“Oh c’mon!” Faraday snorts and pulls back with maybe a little more force than necessary. “It wasn’t like that. I had sex one time and didn’t like it. We all have stuff we don’t like.”

“That is not what you said,” Billy cuts in, his face set in stone, yet incredibly expressive once a man got to know him a little. “You said it hurt.”

He takes one step closer and maybe Faraday is plain crazy or maybe he has come to believe that Billy Rocks will not truly skewer him with his knives or maybe it’s the thrill that keeps him rooted in place, but he doesn’t step out of reach, not even as Billy curls one deceptively slim hand into the fabric of his west.

“You said it hurt,” he repeats and looks up from deep within Faraday’s personal space. “It doesn’t hurt, Faraday. The man was shit or he did it on purpose. Let us prove it. Unless you are afraid?”

Faraday knows the strength hidden in Billy Rocks’ hands, the deadly dexterity in every movement of his. He didn’t know, until that moment, the mesmerizing darkness of his eyes or how perfect his lips look when they curl softly around little puffs of air in the cold twilight. Still, Billy Rocks is not strong enough to best Faraday in a one on one comparison, he couldn't pull him where he does not want to go, not until Faraday relented. But damn him, if he doesn’t know how to lay down a challenge. Billy doesn’t need to be strong enough to make Faraday follow him.

Faraday eyes him warily, the chilling night cold settling around them with the darkness, creeping into his leg, his arm, the muscles tightening with the cold.

“You know I'm not,” Faraday says and a little voice in the back of his head reminds him how he had sat shivering after the guy left, curling around the pain and the dollar bills with broken little breaths, promising himself to never let it happen again.

Billy smiles into the lie and steps closer until his hand curls between their bodies and Faraday can feel him, can feel his breath. The only warmth in the air.

“Prove it.” Billy stretches up, maybe goes onto tip toes to reach Faraday’s lips. “You say stop, we stop. You say no in earnest, we stop. You hurt, we stop.”

He never closes the gap to turn it into a kiss, only fixes his eyes on Faraday’s like a silent promise. “You think I’d hurt Goody for my pleasure?”

And no. No. Faraday does not. He also doesn’t know them for liars. But he knows, has always known, himself for a reckless idiot with a dangerous love for games.

“A bet,” he murmurs, eyeing Billy’s lips. “Five dollars if you convince me, five for me if you don’t.”

“Not quite fair,” Goodnight’s voice echoes in the background, the man out of jacket, out of vest, dressed down to pants, shirt and his cavalry boots.

“Yeah, well,” Faraday grins over the jittery flutter of dread in his belly.  “Then you’ll have to put in some effort.”

 

***

 

He finds himself stripped of all his outer garments and with hands under his shirt by the time he remembers he actually swore to himself to never ever do that again. They have curled up on the “bed”. The construction they hastily had stuffed with a little dry straw from the adjacent hayshed the day before, covered by one of their blankets, softened with the others. Good thing, though, the bed was wide enough for three. Easier to build than multiple bunks that way if one only wanted a roof over the heads of their ranch hands. Maybe. Maybe Faraday was stalling, panic a faint little voice in the back of his head as he suddenly remembers how it had felt as the guy had shoved in and Faraday had had to bite his arm to keep from…

“Hey…” Strong, gentle hands wrap around his face, soft lips brush up his neck, accompanied by the scratch of a well-kept beard and a second pair of strong, calloused hands caressing slowly up his torso and over his chest, finding his nipples to pinch and rub with no need to see.

Must be all the knife wielding and blind stabbing people, but that’s - Faraday gasps into Goodnight’s mouth as he leans in for a kiss - Billy Rocks’ magical hands for you.

“You’re safe with us, Joshua. Just relax. We will take good care of you.” Not even in bed does Goodnight Robicheaux stop talking. But that is alright. He pulls Faraday’s tunic over his head and drops it onto the floor, while his lips move against Faraday’s, murmuring soft reassurances, distracting him from the fact that his fingers open Faraday’s belt and then his pants.

Billy’s lips paint fiery trails along his shoulders, brush and nip over the bullet scar high on the left of his back, while his arms drop to Faraday’s waist and wrap around him securely. Of course, he can do that. He is Billy Rocks. Help Faraday maneuver without losing his position to enable Goodnight to pull down his pants in one swift motion.

Just like that, he’s naked and the faint thrum of panic floods back with a vengeance.

Billy’s softly lilting voice catches him, this time, reminds him of trust, reminds him that they will stop at once if Faraday shows any sign of distress. Reminds him too, not so much with words, that he is Billy Rocks and that his hands find their way to their target without looking when his right slowly, gently, closes around Faraday’s half erect cock. A distraction, if Faraday ever saw, shit, felt one, as they watch Goodnight Robicheaux full undress himself in front of them.

He has a good ten years on Faraday and a hard life behind him. It shows. Scars, old wounds, a story imprinted on a body with considerably less mass than Faraday or even Billy, but that’s the beauty of it, is it not? They all dispense death with unfailing skill and each of them in a different way. Goodnight’s lays in his sharp mind, his word and the brilliance of his eyes.

The things they see…

He steps close one more, towering over Faraday in this position, and whatever he sees in Faraday, he likes it. He wants it if his arousal is any way to go by.

“Are you afraid of me, Joshua?” he asks and reaches out with his right hand, curls it with gentle possessiveness around Faraday’s neck. “Don’t be, mon cher. Come here.”

He says and sits, pulling Faraday with him. His hands, shockingly gentle, drape the younger man next to him on all fours, their sides touching wherever possible. Goodnight wraps his arms around Faraday's shoulders, carefully holds him as Billy’s hands slowly slide down his back to the cheeks of his ass.

“Billy…?” Faraday croaks, more to the man who watches him so intently from only inches away than to the one who does god knows what behind him.

“Billy has much more self-control than I,” Goodnight smiles. “He will go as slow and as careful as you need.”

“I can take it.” The words are out before Faraday thinks about them, a token answer to a challenge.

“I know, mon cher.” Something rustles. “But the goal is to not hurt you.” A bottle is uncapped.

And then Billy is there, his finger sliding slowly up the crack of Faraday’s ass, as Faraday buries his face between his forearms, along with Goodnight the only thing keeping him in place.

“Relax,” Billy murmurs and rubs in slow circles around the tight ring of muscles.

Relax, Faraday thinks and remembers last time, doubts what they are doing, the unfamiliarity of it.

“What are you…?”

“Relax,” Goodnight says and turns Faraday’s head to kiss him, intentionally throwing him off with surprise. Faraday’s question dies on his lips, each thought chased away as BIlly’s finger breaches the muscle and slips inside.

Faraday gasps, tenses, his head shooting up yet… Billy stops. His left rubs slow circles over Faraday’s lower back, murmuring soft praise, too low to understand more than the tone, but it’s reflected by Goodnight, who murmurs in the same tone until it filters that it does not freaking hurt. Pressure? Yes. A bit weird. A yeah. Tingling sensation as Billy moves his finger just that tiny little bit, turns it slowly, massages the muscles from within without pushing deeper? Uhuh.

Pain? Decisive no.

Faraday releases a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding and with it half of the tension in his body. “Ok,” he mumbles, “So far, so good.” He sinks more against Goodnight’s heated body but he doesn’t give a flying crap about that right now. Or about Goodnight’s hands, that pet him in long, caressing strokes as Billy pushes deeper, twists inside him, pulls back, pushes. Lights little sparks in Faraday’s belly that he then fans higher as he adds a second finger.

“Good?” He asks and Faraday nods, not daring for a running commentary, let alone an intelligent one.

“Yeah, good. So far.”

Billy’s fingers do it again, twist slowly, scissor in smooth movements, stretching him, oiling him.

Then it’s three and Goodnight tells him to breathe, to not panic. They won’t hurt him. They won’t

“Kiss me,” Goodnight whispers, drawing Faraday closer against him, tilting his head at an awkward angle until they manage to fit their mouths over each other and Goodnight can catch the little gasps Billy draws forth.

“You are beautiful like this, Faraday.” He rumbles, then he laughs. “And silent.”

Faraday snorts in response and carefully rocks back against the hand draws forward again and laughs. “You want me louder? Then you gotta try harder.”

Billy does. He crooks his fingers and Faraday sees stars, the curses on his lips not enough to hide the sheer brutality of that pleasure.

“Fuck!”

Goodnight’s hands a cool counterpoint to whatever Rocks is doing behind him, caressing in slow, hypnotizing motions all over Faraday’s back and side, down to his hips and his thighs, back up to his shoulders, though he never comes even close to Faraday’s cock.

Because… yeah, he understands that. He’d probably shoot before Billy had even pushed inside. Probably.

“Shit.” He chokes. “Can we..do that again? Maybe?”

Billy laughs and slowly rubs over the same spot, causing Faraday to tense with a wholly different tension now, bucking up into their hands, groaning into the skin of his arms.

“Do it!” he moans, pushing into that pleasure and no pain yet. He'll embarrass himself if they don't get it on and soon. “Fuck me. I can take it.”

Goodnight’s right hand - trigger finger, Faraday thinks- curls around Faraday _'_ s chin, lifts his face to study him with singular intent, watching every twitch, every shiver that Billy causes, every open mouth gasp when his lover scissors his fingers, every soft moan when his finger brush that spot inside Faraday that he didn't quite know existed.

“Beautiful,” Goodnight breathes and then, over Faraday’s shoulder. “Do it.” He seeks Faraday's lips with the fervor of a fire burning, all lips and tongue and hungry moans. No teeth; which figures.  Billy is a teeth person , _Vasquez_ would be a teeth person , Goodnight Robicheaux is far too polite. He also has no need.

Billy pulls back, drawing an undignified whine from Faraday's throat, but Goodnight distracts him, dancing their tongues, their mouths in a merry little jig, awkward angle or not.

Faraday has no way of seeing what Billy is doing there behind him, all he knows is a fucking feeling of emptiness and the way his ass clenches, all of his lower body tingling with a desperate need to have that again. Faraday shifts his shoulders until he can shuffle closer to Goodnight next to him, ease the angle of their kiss, deepen the contact. No fear involved, of course, he just wanted a kiss dammit. Blunt pressure against his ass, much less forgiving than Billy’s nimble fingers and despite everything, despite the _want,_ the need, all the courage he fronted and possessed, Faraday’s breath hitches in his chest, his body jerking away on instinct, caught gently by both Billy’s hands on his hips and Goody’s against his shoulders, by Goody’s lips against his.

“Do it,” Faraday hisses, not trusting his body in that moment. Too many conflicting signals. Do. Don't. Fear. Arousal. He wants Billy’s cock inside him, no matter whether or not a part of him yells to just _run._

The pressure rises, to almost unbearable intensity and Faraday pushes back, following pure instinct, leaning against Goodnight and yeah, all of this would probably go easier, if he just could give in, but it doesn’t matter, Billy leans forward, his lips a burning spot on Faraday’s back and then he is in and everything slithers to a stop

Full. Stretched.

“Fuck,” Faraday breathes, staring at Goodnight’s knowing smirk. He twists his head, finding Billy’s eyes, one strand of his glossy hair fallen from the knot curls around his impossibly beautiful face and it’s… yeah, so that just happened. And he maybe just lost a bet, but hell if he cares.

Billy’s hands rub careful circles over Faraday’s ass and thighs, his mouth curls into the smallest of smiles.

“Alright?” he asks and Faraday gives him a nod. In response Billy slides deeper, eyes locked on Faraday’s until Faraday closes them with a blissed out hiss when Billy bottoms out.

And then he starts to move and Faraday foregoes conscious thought for this. All of this.

There is nothing left but the moans that Billy wrenches from his throat, Goodnight’s hands that caress him, but never touch his cock, because oh God, don’t do it. He would come immediately. It’s so fucking good, so fucking good.

Faraday pushes back against Billy, eyes screwed shut, mouth open to draw enough breath to gasp out Billy’s name with ever increasing urgency. He fucking could come like this. He could if it were only a little more, a little longer, he can’t help clenching around Billy’s cock, his pride desperate at the man’s helpless “hnnngggg”

Perfect control, Goodnight said. Like hell, not with Joshua Faraday.

“Fuck,” he hears him moan, his movement stuttering, slowing almost to a halt and Josh pushes back onto his arms and moves with him, begging for Billy’s strong hands to grasp his hips and to just… “Fucking fuck, me Rocks.”

Faraday’s desperate growl elicits a low laugh  from Goodnight, followed by a moan as Billy follows suit. Goodnight’s sweat smells of arousal, of hunger, though so far he has done nothing but caresses and kisses, held Faraday as Billy took him and denied himself any pleasure. And fuck it, that’s hot too. Opening his eyes, Faraday meets the sharpshooter’s all-seeing gaze and holds it, reveling in the wide blown pupils, in the flare of Goody’s nostrils with each of Faraday’s and Billy’s shared moans.

Faraday’s only warning is a hitch in Billy’s breath, a tightening of his fingers, a curse in a foreign language. He falls forward, forehead pressed to Faraday’s back, getting closer, closer still before his movements stutter and he stills, as he comes.

Faraday sags down, drops his head between his outstretched arms and breathes for just a second. He is painfully hard. Dammit all to hell. He needs to. Could someone, please…?

Someone can’t or don’t, so he shifts his weight to help himself out, only to have his hand caught by Goodnight. The Sharpshooter shifts up, to his knees, a knowing smirk on his face and hunger in his eyes.

“Allow me, please,” he says and Faraday can’t help the notion that the man is laughing at him?

“Will it bring me off? Because do you worst, Robicheaux.”

Billy pulls out, tumbling off to the side, already reaching for Faraday’s head to grab his hair and pull him into a bone-melting kiss. Teeth, tongue and all. He pushes Faraday into Goodnight’s arms and Faraday willingly falls, lets himself be arranged onto his back, no resistance when gentle hands - because of course, Goodnight’s hands are gentle - open his thighs.

A finger trails up Faraday’s cock and he comes off the bed with a cut-off shout, only to be pressed back by Billy’s hands.  Following Goodnight’s movements as he lifts his legs comes naturally and then Billy is gone, but there, pulling back from Faraday’s lips to let him see Goodnight Robicheaux, scarred, damaged and still the best and deadliest shooter in the West slide his admittedly nice cock up Faraday’s ass. Ok, half of that is guessed by very intense feelings of being filled, but yeah.

Accurate. Definitely Goody’s cock.

“Oh God! Goodnight… can someone please…”

“I assume this is more pleasure than pain, Mr. Faraday?”

“Oh Fuck you, Robicheaux. Get on with the program.”

Faraday reaches out again to wrap his hand around his erection because he damn well needs this, but Billy is fast, the callouses of his palm closing over the sensitive flesh in a smooth move that coordinates perfectly with Goodnight’s first push. They’re scary like that, Faraday thinks and blanks for a moment as Billy draws his foreskin back, thumb rubbing slowly over the head.

Faraday has no time to think about how exposed he feels, how exposed he is, bent in half with a cock up his ass and another man half caressing his cock, half keeping him from coming, Faraday’s desperate groans coloring the air, where they mingle with Goodnight’s softer moans.

He barely can think past how good this feels, Goodnight above him, shoving into his ass, holding Faraday’s legs resting on his shoulders. They have long stopped asking if it hurts, they’re asking different questions now, assholes that they both are.

“Who do you think of, when you satisfy yourself, Joshua?”

Literally who? Faraday snorts, grinding down on Goodnight’s cock, body locked on the edge, yet still rocking higher and higher with each of his thrusts. Not there yet, not yet, not…

He closes his eyes to the picture of the angel of death fucking him, searching the image of another angel of death, all smooth, feline movements and coyote grin. Dark eyes that glitter with a sharp intelligence and murderous intent, or humor, a surprisingly fine sense of humor, if he puts his mind to it.

He doesn’t need to say it, Billy’s hand stills on Faraday’s cock, drawing out the moment, a whisper in his ear.

“It’s Vasquez, isn’t it? Do you imagine him saying your name?”

Faraday gasps for air, eyes flying open though he sees nothing, hears nothing, but Vasquez accented, deep voice rolling softly over the letters of his name. Everything, every last corner of his body tingles, waiting, waiting for the moment. “Or this nickname he gave you?” Billy continues, squeezing softly until Faraday whines. “What is it?”

“ _Guero_ ,” Faraday chokes on a moan and falls apart.

 

***

 

“You owe us five dollars,” Billy says and slowly exhales the smoke towards the ceiling. He sits, his back resting against the headboard, Faraday’s saddle blanket pooling around him. Faraday himself is flat on his back, one arm - the good one - curled under his head in lieu of a pillow, dressed in nothing but Goodnight’s blanket and a grin.

“I am rather sure good Joshua is short said five dollars at the moment. If I remember right, his losses in Newtown were rather devastating,” Goody laughs from where he stokes the fire to battle the relentless chill that creeps in through the old windows. He had insisted, much to Billy’s dismay, not only to take care of the fire, but to bring a washcloth for Billy to take care of Faraday and… well, the traces of their activities. A surprise, for sure. Not a bad one. People rarely took care of Faraday.

He hadn’t expected it, not here, not from Billy Rocks. Not gently touches, no asking glances, not the way Billy took great pains to make sure, Faraday was alright. It had become almost too much, unbearable in its strangeness.

“He’s always like this,” Goodnight had chimed in and Faraday had relaxed a little and let the most prolific killer he knew do his thing, had buried his face in Goodnight’s coat as the washcloth had reasped over far too intimate parts of his body and found himself drifting a little, mind wandering, blanking out in parts, just gently straddling the border of sated relaxation and soft sleep.

A few minutes at most, then Billy had tucked Goody’s blanket around him and Faraday had awoken once more and found himself tucked against Billy Rocks’ hip - clad in his underthings once more-, watching Goodnight Robicheaux in a sleep shirt across the room.

He's warm, already, their activities had considerably heated the small room, and comfortable, the question of five dollars payback not weighing too heavily on his mind.

“I can work it off, too, if you like?”

“Work it….” Goodnight turns with his mouth hanging open. Billy laughs.

“Joshua Faraday, that is frankly scandalous and…”

“Oh c’mon, Goody… I was just fucked in the ass by you and your partner. Really? Scandalous?”

Above him, Billy wheezes. Goodnight turns a bright shade of red and bursts out in that sharp, always a little brittle laugh of his.

“We have a full day, Goody,” Billy adds to this and slowly brushes his hands over Faraday’s hair, nudging his head until it properly rests on Billy’s thigh. Faraday considers asking for a cigarette, but that means moving. “We could teach him how to properly fuck a man. The outlaw might appreciate it. And so would you.”

Only because he watches him, does Faraday catch the flicker in Goodnight’s eyes.

Something dark and warm pools in his belly. Something hungry and deep.

He smiles.

“You know what? Let's!”

 


End file.
